The Black Squirrel: Chapter fifteen
The story so far: The Kiwahkwe has struck down Keeyii the hawk and is crushing Wesu in its giant hand as Mac desperately fires his last arrow.
n Chapter FIFTEEN The monster’s heart
The last of Mac’s arrows flew toward the Kiwahkwe. It glowed brighter than the other three, and as it struck it penetrated the monster’s chest. The Kiwahkwe stumbled backward, dropping Wesu on the dry earth of the clearing. It fell onto its back, rolled to its side, and coughed. The forked stick came free. Then something else. A small white stone. It fell next to Wesu.
Mac dropped his bow. He scrambled down from the bulldozer. He ran as fast as he could toward the three shapes that lay there before him. The feathered shape with outstretched wings was Keeyii, the goshawk. The great bird’s legs began to move as he came close to it. Perhaps it had only been stunned. But Wesu lay so terribly quiet. The small man didn’t seem to be breathing.
The Kiwahkwe, though, was still alive. It sat up as Mac approached. There was no anger in its eyes. Mac gasped. The Kiwahkwe had changed. Not only had it grown smaller, it no longer looked at all like a terrible monster. It was a man, a man whose picture Mac had seen in the newspapers. That man looked at Mac, at the two crumpled shapes before him, at the fallen trees in the clearing and the silent bulldozers, at the circle of small people that had formed around them.
“What have I done?” the man said in a choked voice. “I’m . . . I’m sorry.” He stood up, began backing away from Mac. Then he turned and ran. The little people stood aside and let him past as he ran and ran until he was out of sight.
There, where the man who had been a Kiwahkwe had fallen, was that small white shape. It looked just like the monster, the same clawed hands, the same terrible jaws. But it was made of ice.
Mac reached for it. One of the Little People grabbed his hand and stopped him and pointed at something. There on the ground was Mac’s fourth arrow. Mac picked it up, and the arrowhead began to glow red. He touched it to the tiny Kiwahkwe made of ice, the heart of ice that is held in the chest of those who are swallowed by their own anger and hunger. With a small hissing scream, the Kiwahkwe of ice melted away and was gone.
Mac turned to kneel by Wesu. He put one hand on his friend’s chest. Wesu’s eyes were open, but Mac felt no heartbeat.
“You saved my life, Wesu,” Mac said. His eyes were filling with tears. “We did it, we stopped the monster.”
Someone grasped his shoulder. It was the same little man who had stopped him from touching the monster’s heart of ice. Mac stood back and the Little People picked Wesu up and began to carry him.
Mac followed them, the last arrow held tightly in his hand. They carried Wesu’s body toward Keeyii. The goshawk crouched there, waiting for them. It bent its head to Mac as he came close, and he gently stroked its head as he had seen Wesu do. The Little People tied Wesu’s body across the hawk’s back and then motioned for Mac to climb up just behind. As soon as he did so, Keeyii spread his wings and lifted them up into the air. They rose higher and higher, leaving the clearing behind. Mac had no idea where they were going. They coasted above the woods until they were above the place where a cliff face lifted out of the woods.
Suddenly, the goshawk folded its wings and they dove, straight for the cliff face. Mac held tight with his knees, his left hand grasping the strap about the hawk’s body, his right clutching the last arrow to his chest. The cliff face rushed at them. They were going to be flattened by it. But just at the moment of impact, the cliff vanished. Keeyii landed gently on the floor of a huge cave. There were other Little People there. Two of them, kind-faced old women with white hair, reached their hands up to Mac. With one hand, Mac worked free the cords that tied Wesu’s body to the hawk and slid him down to them. Then he jumped off, following as they carried Wesu to a chamber where an empty sleeping rack covered with rabbit skins waited. The old women placed Wesu on the sleeping rack, crossing his hands over his chest. Mac looked around. There were other little men lying in the room. All of them were pale and quiet as Wesu. Somehow Mac knew that these were Wesu’s friends, Mano and the others, who’d been struck down by the monster.
The old women turned to Mac and smiled.
“Magaesosis,” the taller of them said to him. Her voice was just like Grandma Kateri’s. “You have the last arrow.”
NEXT WEEK: The last arrow
Glossary and Pronunciation of Abenaki Words:
Kiwahkwe (key-wah-KWAY): Cannibal monster whose scream can kill
Magaesosis (mah-gay-sew-SEES): Little Eagle